The pieces of a broken heart
fly by in the wind,
thickening the breezy hands,
slapping my skin.
Until I'm motionless
and unable to climb through,
the blood-spilled nothing-ness
translucent to view.
The posion tears rain fear
from the sky
while the cotton clouds
suck the pure waters dry,
and love rips away from us
like an earthquake,
snatching back the mirth
to go with yestarday.
The lips of rapture
cry out like a siren,
screeching in anquish
until the killer end,
while perfect soul mates
give up and break up
letting beauty sleep
and never wake up.
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